To Kill A Mockingbird Is A Sin
by EsmePlatt95
Summary: This is Tom's POV of when he is found guilty to his death. I took the dialog from the book like it was, but his thoughts are written how we would speak now days. Hope you enjoy. One-shot.


**A/N: Okay, this is my first time ever writing a fanfiction or anything for that matter like this. This is one of my favorite books and I hope you enjoy this. This is Tom's POV from when he is found guilty to his death.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own To Kill A Mockingbird. I do not own this title. I do not own anything. **

**To Kill A Mockingbird Is A Sin**

**By: EsmePlatt95**

I was waiting in a room fully aware that I wasn't alone. No one would let me be now. Miss Mayella lied to everyone and Mr. Ewell along side her. I knew without a doubt that I would be found guilty for the crime I never committed.

Although I knew that Miss Mayella was conscious that she was destroying my life, I didn't feel resentment for her. If people knew the truth, she would have it worse than me. I only wish that my Helen would be fine once I'm gone.

I knew that the longer the jury took the better it was for me, but that didn't stop me from being resentful for the time it left me to think. I was grateful for Mr. Finch. He did more for me than anyone would have expected. Though in the end it wouldn't be enough.

Before I could be left to think anymore, Mr. Tate came in and grabbed my good arm and steered me toward the courtroom. He led me to Mr. Finch and took off the shackles that held my good arm to my useless one. It had only been a few minutes before the jury came in. None of them looked at me, and I felt my throat tightened. I didn't have much history with trials like these, but I was certain that it wasn't a good sign. One of the men from the jury walked up to Judge Taylor and handed him a piece of paper. Judge Taylor read, "We find Tom Robinson guilty of ―"

My mind immediately flashed back to the day that started all this pain and misery. I was walking home from work and past the Ewell's house like every other day when I heard someone call, "Tom!"

I looked towards the sound and saw Miss Mayella looking at me. I took off my hat and said, "Good mornin', Miss," and was about to continue on home when she said, "Tom, could you help me with something?"

I agreed and walked into the yard looking for the kindling that she wanted me to chop, but I didn't see any. When I asked about it, she said, "Naw, I got something for you to do in the house. The old door's off its hinges and fall's coming on pretty fast."

"You have a screwdriver, Miss?"

"I sure have," she said and motioned for me to go into the house. She led me in and to the door. "It looks mighty fine, Miss," I said as I pulled it back and forth on its hinges. She then closed the door in my face.

I suddenly realized that the house was too quiet. All the children were gone. "Miss, where the chillun"

She laughed. "They've all gone to town to get ice cream. Took me a year to save some nickels, but I done it. They all gone to town."

"That's right smart o'you to treat 'em, Miss Mayella."

"You think so?" Miss Mayella asked.

"I best be goin', Miss Mayella if I can' do nothin' for ya," I said.

"No!" she said quickly, a strange fire in her eyes. The fire was extinguished as fast as it had came. She laughed. "Oh yes you could."

"What d'you need, Miss?" I asked, confused about what had just happened. This isn't how Miss Mayella usually act …

"Could you step on the chair there yonder and get the box down from on top of that chiffarobe?" She asked.

I looked at the chiffarobe and saw the box on top of it. I grabbed a chair and hesitantly stood on it. I was just grabbing the box when I felt a pair of arms wrap around my legs. I was so startled that I hopped down and turned over the chair. Before I could pick the chair back up, Miss Mayella jumped on me. He arms wrapped around my waist and he lips pressed to my cheek.

"I never kissed a grown man before and I might as well kiss a nigger. What my papa do to me doesn't matter. Kiss me back, nigger."

"Miss Mayella, lemme outa here!" I said and tried to run but she pushed her back to the door. She refused to move even when I begged her to. As I was asking her to move I heard her father yell through the window.

"You goddamn whore! I'll kill you!" He yelled so loud that I jumped.

I had no other choice but to shove her with just enough force to move her and ran faster than ever before. I was praying as I ran that God would protect me. Protect me from a trial that if I was accused, I was sure to lose.

" … guilty," I heard Mr. Taylor say and another memory came to my mind.

Mr. Atticus was sitting outside the jail. I was asleep but awoke when I hear a car door open. Mr. Atticus was just sitting there reading a newspaper like he was waiting for someone.

I saw cars pull over to the opposite side of the road from the jail. No one exited the cars for a few minutes than by ones and twos they came out. I heard the rustling of paper and knew that Atticus was putting away his paper. He had indeed been waiting for someone.

"He in there, Mr. Finch?" one of the men asked. My heart skipped a beat when I realized that they meant me, thought it wasn't totally unexpected.

"He is," Mr. Finch answered, "and he's asleep. Don't wake him up."

"You know what we want. Get aside from the door, Mr. Finch," another man said. I quickly realized that Mr. Atticus Finch was the only protection I had.

"You can turn around and go home again, Walter," Mr. Atticus said pleasantly. "Heck Tate's around somewhere."

"The hell he is," another man said. "Heck's bunch's so deep in the woods they won't get out till mornin'." My breath stopped when I realized they sent the Sheriff away so they could kill me. All they had to do was knock aside Mr. Finch and I would be a dead man.

"Indeed? Why so?" Mr. Atticus asked.

"Called 'em off on a snipe hunt. Didn't you think a'that, Mr. Finch?"

"Thought about it, but didn't believe it. Well then," Mr. Atticus said in the same voice as before, "that changes things, doesn't it?"

"It do," said another man.

"Do you really think so?" Mr. Finch asked. I couldn't help but watch in silence. I was too scared to make a sound, but I didn't want Atticus to get hurt or worst because of me.

Then I heard a young boys voice shriek, "No!" and I saw a little girl burst through the ring of men saying, "H-ey, Atticus!"

I froze, as did Mr. Finch. The girl looked around and blushed. Soon after two boys joined her and it seemed that Mr. Atticus was going to have a stroke. My best guess told me that they were his children. Mr. Atticus got up from his chair slowly, and, with trembling fingers, smoothed out his paper.

"Go home, Jem. Take Scout and Dill home," Mr. Atticus said I a calm but also strained voice.

The boy, who must've been Jem, shook his head and put his hands on his hips as did Mr. Finch.

"Son, I said go home."

Mr. Finch's son shook his head.

"I'll send him home," said another man and grabbed Jem roughly by the collar. He yanked him nearly off his feet.

Before I could call out for them to stop, the little girl yelled "Don't touch him!" and kicked the man in the knee. He fell back in pain.

"That'll do, Scout," Mr. Finch said, and he put his hand on her shoulder. "Don't kick folks."

Scout started to argue, and Mr. Finch cut her off. "No―"

It was Scout's turn to cut him of. "Ain't nobody gonna do Jem that way."

"All right, Mr. Finch, get 'em outa here. You got fifteen seconds to get 'em outa here," someone growled.

Mr. Atticus Finch stood there pleading with Jem to take themselves outa there. "I ain't going," was Jem's steady answer to all of Mr. Atticus' threats, requests, and pleases.

As they were arguing, the little girl looked around the crowd and her eyes stopped on one person.

"Hey, Mr. Cunningham," she said.

The man didn't acknowledge her.

"Hey, Mr. Cunningham," she repeated. "How's your entailment getting' along?"

Mr. Cunningham didn't look at her, but he did shift his feet.

"Don't you remember me, Mr. Cunningham? I'm Jean Louise Finch. You brought us some hickory nuts one time, remember? I go to school with Walter. He's your boy, ain't he? Ain't he, sir?"

Mr. Cunningham nodded so faintly that it was very nearly impossible to see in the dark. Everyone kept looking back and forth at Scout and Mr. Cunningham.

"He's in my grade," Scout continued, "and he does right well. He's a good boy, a real nice boy. We brought him home for dinner one time. Maybe he told you about me, I beat him up one time but he was real nice about it. Tell him hey for me, won't you? Entailments are bad."

I look around at the crowd of men and saw that I wasn't the only one that was astonished. Most of the men had their mouths hanging half-open. When Scout looked at her father, he closed his mouth.

"Well, Atticus, I was just sayin' to Mr. Cunningham that entailments are bad an' all that, but you said not to worry, it takes a long time sometimes … that you all'd ride it out together …" she slowed down her speech 'til she was absolutely silent. She looked around nervously and asked, "What's the matter?"

She looked from Mr. Finch to Mr. Cunningham. Mr. Cunningham was as stunned as the rest. He slowly squatted down and took her by the shoulders.

"I'll tell him you said hey, little lady," Mr. Cunningham promised her.

He then stood up and waved on of his big hands. "Let's clear out," he called. "Let's get going, boys."

The men left for their cars in ones and twos just like when they came. The doors slammed, the engines growled, and they slowly peeled away 'til none were left.

Mr. Finch was leaning against the jail wall when Scout went up to him and tugged on his sleeve. "Can we go home now?" she asked. I heard someone blow their nose.

"Mr. Finch?" I asked softly. "They gone?" I had to make sure.

Mr. Finch came into view and looked up at me with a soft expression on his face. "They've gone. Get some sleep, Tom. They won't bother you anymore."

I heard a man's voice come from somewhere in the night. "You're damn tootin' they won't. Had you covered all the time, Atticus." Mr. Finch walked into the night to talk as the children waited. After what seemed like an hour, Mr. Finch returned and turned off the jail light and turned to pick up his chair.

"Can I carry it for you, Mr. Finch," asked the child who I all but forgot about. "Why, thank you, son," Mr. Finch said.

I watched them walk of into the night before returning to my bed. I was startled when I realized that I owed that little girl, Scout, my life. She was the only thing that saved me.

My mind returned to the present as Mr. Taylor finished reading the verdict. I was to be sent to the Enfield Prison Farm to wait for the state trial. I already knew that I would lose that trial as well.

Mr. Finch packed up the papers and walked over to talk to someone. When he came back, he put his hand on my shoulder.

"We still have a good chance, Tom. Just wait 'til the next trial. Don't lose hope." Mr. Finch told me.

I looked at him sadly as they took me away. There was no way I would win the next trial. Mr. Finch was probably the best lawyer out there yet he couldn't even help me.

It was long train ride out to Enfield Prison Farm. I sat looking out the window trying to remember all the happy memories I had. All of them included Helen and the children in some way. There was Helen and my wedding and the birth of our children. There were many more, but they all were tainted with the fact that I wasn't allowed to see them one more time before I was taken away.

I saw after a few more minutes these giant, metal gates that incased a half mile of land that that held building after building. There was no color in the place. I felt my stomach drop as my eyes met the faces of dozens of men with dead eyes. It was clear that once you're here, you'll never see your true home again. I would either live here 'til the day I died or I would await my execution here.

The guards led me to a house that was filed with bunk beds. The place reeked of sweat, blood, and rotten food. It was clear that hygiene wasn't a high priority. They led me to one of the beds and thrust two sets of clothes at me. Their eyes were colder than the coolest winter night. They told me my schedule and the rules. The main one was that I shouldn't try to escape. I would be shot on the spot. I sat down on my bed and was left alone. I allowed a few tears to escape. My chances of seeing my family again were slim.

For the next couple of weeks, I followed my schedule like I was born to live by it. I was formulating a plan that would allow me to see my family again. I decided that I would have to take my changes and that my best hope was to escape.

During our daily exercise period, I was running with my fellow prisoners when I suddenly changed my coarse and ran towards the gate. I reached the gate and was already climbing when I heard a guard yell at me to stop. I was halfway to the top when they fired a warning shot, but I didn't stop. Nothing could stop me now. I was just going over the top of the fence when I felt a bullet enter my leg and another one my arm. I dropped to the ground on the opposite side of the fence. The last thing that I saw before death took my breath away was the smiling face of my beautiful Helen.


End file.
